Just After Lorelei's Death - Somewhere Deep in the Abyss
My concentration broke, and my form resumed the stature of a demon's. In that pose, I sank down to my knees and gaped at the empty air. My teeth-laden maw fell limp with disbelief. She was gone. The only companion that I had ever known or spent any time with was gone. I knelt in denial for what seemed a century. Subconsciously I knew my mourning would only last a few moments. For I have the heart of a demon, and a demon's heart lets loose of mourning and sorrow with great ease. Infernal creatures have little sympathy for others, even if all of their known life had been devoted to them. I felt bad, and I felt that her passing was my fault. Yet I continued on.
There wasn't much around me. For the first time I took a good, hard look at the dark red stone. It seemed to protrude in every direction with jagged edges and tearing spikes. Only in rare places did the unforgiving mineral give way to smooth surfaces. On one of those patches of terrain was where Lady Lorelei had built her cabin. No plant-life of any sort grew on the stones, not even moss or lichen. The only life forms on this desolate layer of the abyss had been myself and the angel. Now it was just me.
I walked over to her cabin once my legs had stabilized. It was very quaint and spacey. I transformed into my humanoid self and strolled inside. I looked around the two room house, only to find what would eventually become my knowledge of what should be in a normal home: There was a bedroom area, a dining area, a kitchen area, and a lounge area. Also, there was a bathroom, but that was not important.
What caught my eyes were the books that lay upon the shelves in what seemed to be her lounge and reading corner. I walked over to them and picked out a book. It was a small sized book, about six inches in height and four inches long. It was bound in a tough leather jacket, with golden thread to tie it all together. There was a language on the cover that I could not comprehend. As I opened it up I was enlightened with the glimmering pages of an angelic book of music. The cover did not burn me, but the sounds and magic that flew from the pages forced me to shut the book and chuck it across the room.
I was wary of what I picked up next. It was a blue-leather bound book, and had the same type of odd language on it as the one before had. I was smarter this time, and opened the book slowly. I peered inside with a great caution, and to my glee no heavenly pain met me. So, with the go ahead finalized, I threw open the tome and sat down in a nearby lounge. To my disappointment, it was in the odd language that the covers of both of the books had been in.
In dismay, I looked for a translator or some sort of lexicon to this strange language that I had found. Quickly, I was able to locate one on the lower shelves, along with a pen and paper for notes. In my human form, I began to translate this harmless book that I had found into the language that I naturally knew: Demonic.
I don't know how long I worked, but because my demonic body never needed true sleep (a nap here and there helped my concentration, though), I never needed to put my work down for more than an hour.
I hadn't learned of hunger yet, either. I hadn't experienced any sort of situation where my demonic hunger would be triggered too.
I wanted to learn. Over my time with the angel, I had deduced that some sort of power or advantage came from knowledge. I had also observed that the angel seemed to get her knowledge from these tomes of hers.
Eventually, I had translated all of the book onto some note paper that I found in the house. Demonic is not a pretty language in writing, unlike elven or oriental. My handwriting was not the bet either, and sometimes I felt awkward in my human form. It was hard to write because of it. Only after I had finished my translation, I realized that maybe I could've used my mind to write, instead of my humanoid hands.
